i’m typing this on the toilet. i’m pooping. when i realized that i needed to go, i was immediately struck by the fact that it’s a potentially awkward time before my 5pm class starts, so this would take a bit more calculation than usual. (there’s always some degree of gaming out every single thing that’s required in the course of a normal day, and especially something as sensitive as pooping.)

at the point i realized that i needed to go, there was only one other person left in the office that’s shared by graduate teaching assistants and lecturers/adjunct instructors, so i needed to decide if i even wanted to return to the office after finishing. if i returned, i would possibly be the only one in the office (if the other person leaves), which would mean that i would be supposed to lock the door on my way out when i do leave for class, since you’re supposed to lock it anytime you leave the office empty, to prevent theft. this rule makes sense, but it also makes me really uncomfortable, because most people don’t bother to lock the door, so i am caught between the impulse to follow the rule (and help to insure that sure no one’s stuff gets stolen) and the desire not to be the lame who locks the door when no one else does (because most don’t bother, and multiple people leave their keys on a desk when they leave). i always lock the door if i’m leaving leaving, but i also try to do it as quickly as possible, so that no one sees me and i don’t get outed as the dork who locks the door. or, more optimally, i try my best to avoid being in the situation of having to make the choice, which is what i did just now. i gathered my things into my backpack and left the office for the day, planning to simply find a quiet spot after finishing my business to wait for 4:45pm so that i can go to class.

i walked to the bathroom on the first floor, closest to the office, that i normally use. however, on my way there, i passed a student that was in one of my classes last semester, and he smiled and gave me a friendly hello. he’s a nice guy, and i like him, and i knew that i needed to use another bathroom, because using this one meant i would see him again on the way out.

i walked around to the other first floor bathroom, on the opposite corner of the building. there was someone in one of the  two stalls. i stood, silent and still in the center of the restroom, processing this information. since i had no way of knowing how much longer they would take to finish, i left.

i didn’t want to go to the third floor, because that’s where the english department is, and, consequently, where i am most likely to encounter people who recognize me, so i tried the second floor. the first men’s room i came to had a janitorial cart parked in front of it. actually, it was between the men’s and women’s room, so either one might have been occupied, but i just moved on to the next second-floor bathroom.

almost as soon as i began walking away from the first second-floor bathroom, however, i remembered that the second set of restrooms on that floor aren’t in identical spots as the first and third floors; rather, they are inside the main entrance-way near the auditorium. this wouldn’t be an issue, except that the Writing Center, that has a front that is entirely made up of windows (so that a person outside can see into the room and those inside can see out into the hall) is directly across from the bathrooms. this is an issue because i know lots of the people that work in the Writing Center, and while i don’t know the exact schedule of who’s working when, it seemed very likely that there would be at least one person who i know and who knows me. i briefly considered going to try the third-floor restrooms, but my previous logic about why i wanted to avoid them remained compelling. finally, i realized that there was a less risky approach to the men’s room opposite the Writing Center: if i go outside and walk around to the Arts & Sciences building’s main entrance, it would appear to anyone that might notice me as though i was just entering the building, which for some reason felt less uncomfortable. (it would look really weird to anyone who noticed me leaving one entrance of the building only to enter another one, but i decided that the probability of this happening was low.) also, while i couldn’t remember for sure, i thought that it was possible that coming from that direction might keep me from being in the line of sight of anyone in the Writing Center. as it turned out, this was correct, which provided a fleeting moment of triumph. unfortunately, that feeling was followed by disappointment that there was, again, someone in the other stall. fortunately, i could hear clearly the unmistakable sounds of that person finishing up their work (toilet paper being dispensed). when i entered the other stall, i moved to hang my backpack up on the hook in the top left corner of the stall door, but i noticed that the hook was very loosely attached, at this point, to the door. i worried that it wouldn’t hold the weight of my bag, which contained my laptop. (placing my bag in the floor was not an option i was willing to entertain, because anyone else who came into the bathroom would potentially notice that and think it was strange.) thinking quickly through the other options i had already explored and found unsuitable, i carefully hung my bag on the hook and decided that i would have to keep a careful watch on it. i sat down on the toilet and continued holding it in, listening for the guy who was finishing up to leave. after what seemed like an exceptionally long time spent washing his hands, he finally left. i began to poop.

five minutes until class starts. as i wrapped up this post, i sat on a bench right outside the room my class is in, furiously trying to complete it as i self-consciously noted almost all the other students and the instructor entering the room. (the instructor looked at me, seemingly puzzled at me sitting outside the empty room and not going in, but didn’t say anything.)  i had intended to make a particular note of exactly when i left the stall/bathroom (maybe 4:40-ish?), but another person came in and entered the other stall, so i was in the throes of all that anxiety (carefully calculating how long to wash my hands, etc.). it’s a regular day.

• class didn’t start until about seven minutes after 5pm, and i was making edits to this post in that dead time.
• next day, 11:30am-ish: i made some edits, changed some tenses that were wonky and adjusted a few bits of language. i’m still not sure if this works best in past or present-tense. might come back and change everything to present.

a paisley tie, tonal brown. it’s a pretty dope accessory, and therein lies the problem.

one of my students saw me in the hall, told me that i looked ‘legit.’ (which, i guess, implies that i look illegitimate most days.) i accepted the compliment poorly. as is my wont.

another instructor complimented me in the shared office space, saying i looked ‘official.’ (which, again, implies that normally i look unofficial. best to not dwell on this.) again, i accepted the compliment poorly.

i need to keep working on responding to compliments in a reasonable manner. it’s harder than it should be. it ought to be easier.

we live with four cats, which is excellent. they go to the bathroom quite a bit, which is less awesome, but we knew this about them before we let them move in.

we have these two really large litter boxes, which are dope. they have these places at one end where you can place your scoop that you have for the litter, like a holster. i don’t think it’s meant to be a holster, because it’s really narrow and deep, but it works as a place to stick the scoop and i haven’t ever actually even considered what its intended function is, because all i do with the litter is scoop it and refill it when it’s low. you can only stick the scoop a little bit of the way into the opening (it’s almost like a slot), but it stays in place. i suppose you could put it in handle first, which would take more advantage of the depth, but i’m not trying to grab my cat litter scoop by the scooping end.

right now, there are three scoops taking up 3/4 of the available slots in the two litter boxes. two of them are plastic, and one of them is metal, with a rubber grip. i got the metal one, because the plastic ones, which i always chose because they are cheaper and i don’t need anything fancy to shovel poop, kept breaking. i don’t know how common that is, but it happened like three times. it’s unclear whether the problem was that these cats were making some extra heavy, Nibbler-style waste, or if there’s an issue with my scooping technique, but it bothered me enough that i decided to get a metal scoop and end all the questions.

unfortunately, i just didn’t like the metal one. it’s so heavy, it was hard to even tell whether i was scooping anything or not, and it obliterated the solid clumps of urine it smashed into during scooping, which made scooping really difficult. basically, it caused as many problems as it solved (which was one), and it removed the tactile pleasure of, you know, picking up pee and poop with a little shovel. also, the plastic ones can be really bright colors, which i enjoy greatly.

so i went back to the plastic one, but not until comparing different scoops at different pet stores. i got a reasonably substantial deep blue one to pair with a bright yellow number that was still hanging around. and the metal one stays in the holster, at the ready for when it might be needed. i try not to look at it, though, because it makes me think of how awful it would feel banging against my teeth. which it definitely would, because it would be a struggle just to get it inside my mouth, it’s so big, and there’s no way i could avoid it clanging against at least some of them. *shudder*

7 November 1921

This inescapable duty to observe oneself: if someone else is observing me, naturally I have to observe myself, too; if none observes me, I have to observe myself all the closer.

-Franz Kafka

first, and most obviously: church.

i lie, exclusively. when i tell the truth, it’s in service of the larger lie. unutterable fear drives everything i say and do, so everything i say and do is an attempt to forestall, for one more moment, everyone else seeing how lost and afraid i am. i try to remember things that i’ve said that have seemed successful in the past, and i repeat them and adapt them to new contexts. i hope to avoid having to improvise.

i write, and i try to focus with precision, with mercilessness even, on myself. i do my best to not let myself off the hook, make me answer to myself if no one else. i am determined to pick at scabs, disinfect wounds with fire, jam my thumbs in my own eyes. i know it will be good for me.

i sprint headlong right up to the edge of what i’m scared of and stop. i stay there, right on that edge, so long that it can feel like i’m making progress. i wallow in my own filth and i congratulate myself for it before i hate myself for it. i write more, excoriating myself for my cowardice. i put on a hell of a show for myself. i never need to improvise, and it feels fresh every time.

i’m just like Kafka, just like me. i’m yet another interesting white person. the real one this time, observing myself all the closer because none observes me, just in case someone observes me (especially me). i’m instagram poetry.

more than once, my current therapist has asked me if i want to change. like if i want to be different than the way i am now, really fix the things that are broken about me. and my answer is yes, but also that i know that i work really hard at not facing certain things about myself. i’m good at avoiding. i’m fucking great at avoiding.

my previous therapist noticed this same problem. she even mentioned, one time, that she might not be the best person to help me and that she could help me try to find someone else. she had noted, more than once, that she had become frustrated, because i was really good at getting us focused on some semantic issue that, in the moment, always seemed important, but that she later realized didn’t accomplish anything except pushing us away from talking about something that made me uncomfortable. i knew she was right about this, because i had realized it, too.

i kind of panicked when she said this, because it felt like i was being rejected. even though i didn’t say anything, she tried to make it clear that this wasn’t the case. she just felt like she wasn’t quick or capable enough to push me in the way necessary. she framed this like a compliment and/or like it was a reflection of her inadequacy, but it felt like an admission that i’m so fucked up that she was just giving up. more than anything, though, it felt like an admission that she didn’t like me and was sick of talking to me. i was really scared that she was saying that she wouldn’t work with me anymore.

i said that i really wanted to keep meeting with her, and that i would really push myself to be aware and not try to avoid subjects. it felt like when i was dating my first girlfriend and she would be at her wit’s end because i had promised to do move in with her, but, yet again, had avoided doing it. i would go through the whole routine, telling her how sorry i was and how hard it was and how i wished i could just do it because she didn’t deserve this, and i would promise to really do it this time. more than once, i said that i would go get my stuff right now and move in right this minute. usually, in these situations, both of us were crying and she surely felt so bad for me that she always told me it was okay, i didn’t need to do it right now, just soon. at least once i promised i would do it the next day. she shouldn’t have been so kind, though, because i never did.* it wasn’t because i was lying or i didn’t love her; it was because i was so scared to make such a huge change, and once that emotional moment had passed it was too easy for me to convince myself of any number of good reasons why it wasn’t possible to do it right now.

and that’s the thing: they’re always good reasons. i have been doing this avoiding shit for a long time, and i don’t settle for nonsense. i think about my stuff a lot, and if it’s not logical, if it doesn’t stand up to scrutiny, then i don’t use it as an excuse. in the moment, i can fool not only myself, but my old girlfriend, my partner, my mom, my old therapist, my new therapist, etc. it’s really frustrating to realize that, while i do definitely want to feel better and do the work that will make me more healthy, i also will, every single time, do my best to sabotage myself and keep from facing the things i most need to confront, and i won’t even necessarily realize i’m doing it. (because, real talk, i do know when i’m doing it sometimes, especially by now.) it’s what made my previous therapist want to help me find someone new because she thinks she can’t help me and what makes my current therapist ask me if i really want to change and what makes me afraid that i’ll never change and i’ll never feel any better.

+++

my previous therapist was really smart, though, and she did figure out what i really didn’t want to talk about. one day, she wanted to stop what were talking about and address something that she had been wanting to address but wasn’t sure i was ready to talk about. she said she was going to ask me a question, and i could take as long as i needed to answer. there was a little over twenty minutes left in the session, so there was no rush. so she asked her question. i couldn’t answer, and i just sat there staring at the floor. she said it was okay, i should take my time. after about seven minutes (i know it was about seven minutes because i kept looking at the clock), she asked me to just describe how the question made me feel. i could not make words come out of my mouth. it was like i wanted to talk, and i was even thinking of words and my mouth was even hanging slightly open, but on the way out the words crashed into a wall. my hands went numb, followed by my arms and face; it was my first panic attack. (my skill at avoidance had always kept me out of situations that would have caused panic attacks in the past.) i bent my feet inwards, lining the soles of my shoes up perfectly over and over. we sat like that for the whole rest of the session. later, when i had calmed down, i wondered what that twenty minutes had been like for her. she did her best to assure me that it was okay. she said that my reaction made her even more sure that we needed to talk about this issue, but that she would give me some time before she tried to address it again. fortunately (and unfortunately, i guess), she never did bring it back up. my current therapist hasn’t figured it out yet. or maybe she has, and she wants to wait until she thinks i’m ready to bring it up.

*i did finally do it, but it took literally years longer than it should have. and while this was maybe (maybe) the most notable single example, she had to put up with this same shit every time there was a situation that called for me to act like a functioning, like, adult human person.

thursday is my totally off day this semester. i spent the entire day in the house, hanging out with parrots and cats.

i got two new pairs of shoes yesterday, and one new pair last week. i wore them all today, changing into a new pair of socks for each one.

i skimmed Kafka’s Diaries (assigned for class) and made some minor edits to the two large blog posts i made yesterday, because they were made without any proofreading or revising. it’s possible they’ll be edited more. i also wrote a couple pages for an essay i’m working on, but they weren’t good and i deleted them.

i made vegan chili from a can.

while i was gone at school, like seven packages arrived for me. most, i think, are books that i ordered for school. three of them were gifts (birthday and belated xmas*), including one that included two of the pairs of shoes. i opened the gifts yesterday (so that i could thank the people who sent them), and another one today (shaving supplies), but i’m leaving the others to open tomorrow, and maybe days after that. i enjoy the anticipation, and unless there’s a need to have something right now, i like to wait.

my third pair of shoes for the day is pinching my toes right now. but they’re also the best looking out of the three. i’m not sure which of those considerations is more important to me. probably appearance.

i was going to the bathroom earlier today, and one of the cats kept putting her hand underneath the door, palm up, feeling around and yowling from the other side. no one else was home, so i leaned over and opened the door. she poked her head in, looked around, made eye contact with me, and walked away.

*i actually received the belated xmas gift a few weeks ago, but the sender said she was sending a note that explained the gift, so i decided to wait for the explanation before opening the gift. the note is what arrived earlier this week. it was worth the wait.